by Bianca D'Arc
“You were gravely ill, Brother,” she reminded him. He was always more unreasonable when he was sick.
“That means nothing. He should have been giving me daily reports at the very least. I have sent for him and will sack him if his words are not to my liking.” Now he sounded petulant. Oh dear. It was going to be one of those mornings.
“If you sack him, the keep will be overrun in less than a fortnight,” she muttered, taking the dishes he’d already discarded and stacking them on a table by the door.
“Don’t think I didn’t hear that!” he yelled at her back. “And don’t you dare to question my decisions. I am lord here.”
His tirade was preempted by the entry of a grim-faced Tristan into the room. She was glad of the reprieve, but she didn’t want there to be a confrontation as a result of her back talk to the brother that despised her. She didn’t want Tristan to suffer because of her.
“My apologies, Brother. You are right, of course.”
He pushed his tray away, not caring that the costly dishes clanked and could have broken at the violent treatment. She rushed to take the tray before he did real damage to her mother’s prized tableware.
“Damn right, I’m right. And you best remember it…for the short time you have left here.” He sneered at her and she felt pain in her heart at the obvious hatred in his gaze.
Had he ever loved her as a sister? She thought not and regretted it bitterly. She would have liked to have been able to lean on a sibling. Instead, she’d been shunned by him at every turn since their father’s death.
“My lord,” Tristan interrupted, stepping between her and Envard’s glare.
“Where in the hells have you been? You should have been reporting to me all along.” It seemed Envard’s wrath had a new target.
“I have attempted to speak to you every day since your injury, milord. You have been out of your mind with fever and speaking incoherently for the most part. The healers advised me to leave you be until your fever broke. I am glad to see that it has.” Tristan’s delivery was rapid fire and matter of fact. He didn’t give Envard a moment to get a word in and Cara had to admire the way he managed him. As if he’d been dealing with difficult people in positions of power for a long time. “Now,” Tristan went on, unrolling a large, deerskin map of the border. “We need to discuss the attacks since you were injured. There appears to be a pattern. I have conferred with Sir Thorn on this matter in your absence and he agrees. The news is troubling indeed.”
That was the first she’d heard of a pattern and she wanted desperately to stay and listen, but another glare from Envard made it clear she was to leave. Cara gathered the discarded dishes and made her way to the door, not sparing a glance for Tristan. If Envard caught her looking at the Master at Arms, he might see something she’d rather he not be aware of.
She made a hasty exit, only to find Sir Thorn waiting in the hallway for her. He took the tray of dishes before they overbalanced and toppled to the stone floor. He had surprised her and saved the day once again.
“Thank you, Sir Thorn.” She tried not to sound breathless and failed. He made her nervous…in an exciting sort of way.
“Can I help you with these?” he asked, holding up the heavily laden tray.
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you. Don’t you have to go in and talk strategy with my brother and Master Tristan?” She reached out to take it back from him, but he would not let go.
“I am at your disposal, milady. Lord Envard can wait. Tristan will keep him busy while I discuss matters with you. We tossed a coin for it and I won.” His smile was sly, and very flattering. “Now, were you heading toward the kitchens, perhaps?” He motioned toward the hallway.
“Well…yes.” She didn’t really understand what was going on here between the two men.
“Then I will accompany you there, if I may and then perhaps we can talk, if you are agreeable.” He was pleasant and almost gallant with his request. She couldn’t say no.
So they walked together toward the kitchens, speaking of nothing in particular until Thorn commented on the dishes.
“These ceramics are quite fine. I have not seen their like outside the palace.”
“They were my mother’s,” she admitted shyly. “One of the few things I have left from her.”
Thorn’s face grew concerned. “She was taken from you and Envard too young,” he said in a kind voice.
“Oh, Envard’s mother was our father’s second wife. We are not full siblings. My mother died when I was born. Father remarried four years later and Envard was born about eight months after that. Perhaps that’s why…” She trailed off, realizing she was about to say something indelicate. She should not speak openly about the distance between her and Envard. It wasn’t seemly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know Lord Harald had been married twice. My sympathies on the loss of your mother.” His voice was quiet, seeming truly regretful and it touched her deeply.
“I never knew her, and Father did not speak of her often. She left a few things to me. The porcelain is one. Father never used it, but Envard ordered all his meals served on it the moment Father died.” She bit back the anger at her brother’s selfish insistence. She cringed every time he treated the precious plates roughly and he seemed to do it on purpose, just to needle her.
Thorn looked pained by her words, but let them pass as they entered the kitchen. He placed the tray gently on the countertop nearest the sink and the scullery maid blushed as he gave her a smile. She liked the way he treated the servants—like people, not like lower life forms. Her brother had been abusing the household staff since he was old enough to speak, though their father apparently never saw it.
“My mother was Princess Jala of the House of Jirand,” Cara revealed. It felt good to speak of her mother. Envard had practically forbidden all talk of the woman who came before his own mother. It was freeing to speak of her openly and it warmed her heart just to say her name.
Even such a simple thing as speaking her mother’s name was yet another thing Envard had denied her.
Chapter Eight
“You are of royal blood?” Thorn seemed shocked…and happy?
“Only on my mother’s side. It’s not something we talk about. I guess things would have been different had she lived.”
Thorn’s arm came around her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Knowing this, I now understand a little more about our situation. It is no wonder you can hear dragons speak. You are part dragon yourself.”
“Part dragon?” She really didn’t understand. He’d walked her to a quiet corner of the large kitchen while they talked and pulled out a chair for her, seating her before he continued.
“All those of royal blood share the lineage of Draneth the Wise. You are all half-dragon and half-human, created that way to rule over both dragons and humans in our land. I can only guess that your mother would have taught you all about your heritage had you been given the chance to know her.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know about her,” Cara admitted.
“We will do our best to reconnect you with your cousins if you wish, Lady Cara. By rights, you are Princess Cara,” he said with a grin, surprising her. “You are of the royal blood. Normal rules of inheritance do not count in such cases. All those descended of Draneth are considered royal.”
“I didn’t realize that.” He’d given her a great deal to think about. Had Envard known? She thought he probably had. Maybe that’s why he disliked her so much.
“Princess, there is much for us to speak about, but first, I want you to know how much I’ve always admired you. I was not free to speak before, but with the many changes that have occurred since yesterday, I begin to think the Mother of All is surely guiding our paths in this case. Shar and Rath think so too.” He spoke in a quiet voice that calmed her, even as his nearness excited her. “I also must apologize for my behavior last night. I was very clumsy and I am sorry if I frightened you.”
Cara knew her fair skin w
as glowing red with her blushes. She hadn’t really been frightened by his advances last night. She knew he would never hurt her. She’d been confused. Needy. And a little shocked by the implications.
“Tristan and I had a long talk last night after you ran off,” Thorn continued when she said nothing—not knowing how to answer. “He suggested a calmer approach, which is why I wanted to talk to you.” He reached across the small table at which they sat and took one of her hands in his, surprising her, but not unpleasantly. “Lady Cara—Princess—I have admired you for a long time. I angled to get the patrols that would take me over your keep so I could see you, even if I felt at the time that I could never act on my feelings. I had hoped you’d noticed me too. Am I vain in thinking that perhaps you did?”
His teasing smile and the way his warm hand squeezed her fingers gently made her smile, even as her blush increased. She couldn’t lie to the man. Not when he held her hand and looked so charming.
“I confess I did, Sir Thorn,” she whispered. “But you never approached me,” she dared to say.
“I felt I could not. Since the moment I agreed to be Sharlis’s partner, I knew that whatever relationship I pursued it would not be a traditional one. Understand me—I have never regretted becoming a knight. It is my honor and my joy to share Sharlis’s life and live in the Lair. But I have always had reservations about asking a woman—particularly one of your gentle upbringing—to accept the lifestyle we must have. Not that there’s anything wrong when three people share their lives and love binds their union. It’s just that it can be a shock to a gently reared woman to contemplate such a marriage.”
Cara decided it was time to find her backbone. “I confess it is a shock. And if you are asking me to consider it, you should say so straight out, Sir Thorn.” There. That sounded better. She could see his eyes sparkle as if in approval and it gave her even more strength to speak her mind. “I was raised a lady, but you have seen for yourself that I am not quite the traditional keep lady. I fight alongside the men and acquit myself well. I am equally at home with a blade or a ladle in my hand. And I am not completely ignorant of the goings on between men and women. I admit that the thought of two men in my life instead of the single husband I was always led to believe I would have is both scary…and tantalizing. I’m not sure how it can work, but if the two men you are asking me to consider are yourself and Master Tristan…” She trailed off, the blush returning to heat her cheeks.
She lowered her eyes, but Thorn reached out to place a finger under her chin, raising her head playfully as he smiled at her. She met his gaze and all was right with the world. He didn’t condemn her words or bold manner. Instead, his gaze glowed with approval and pride. It made her feel stronger.
“I am asking you to consider sharing your life with me. And with Tristan. If he agrees to be Rath’s knight, he and I will be fighting partners. We will share our lives and our wife. It is my fondest wish that you be that wife, for I have loved you from afar too long. The idea that you could finally be mine makes me impatient for Tristan to give in and agree to Rath’s claim.”
“Sir Rath said the words of Claim to Tristan?” This was news to her.
She might not know a lot about dragons, but everyone in Draconia knew about how knights were made. The dragons would speak words of Claim—though she didn’t know what the actual words were—and the knight would agree, and a lifelong partnership would be made.
“Not the exact words.” Thorn shook his head. “But he asked Tristan to consider it, spelling out all it would mean. I had hoped Tris would jump at the chance, but he is a cautious man. He asked for time and Rath agreed. I think a large part of his trepidation is you, Cara. He intimated to me last night that he would refuse if it meant you would be left here without a champion. I got the impression that your brother doesn’t treat you well.” Thorn’s brows lowered in concern. “I had no idea, Cara. I did not see any evidence of it in all my visits, but I heard how Envard spoke to you this morning. Has he always treated you with such contempt?”
“We haven’t really gotten along since we were children, but it only got bad after Father died,” she admitted. It felt good to tell Thorn about it. She’d been so isolated at the keep since her father’s passing.
Both of Thorn’s warm hands clasped hers, surrounding them in his warmth.
“Cara, my dear, I am truly sorry for what you have suffered. I want you to think about coming away with me to the Border Lair, even if this doesn’t work out between us. I want you to be safe and happy. As a princess of royal blood, you will always have a home among dragonfolk. You have a choice should you want to leave here, even if you don’t want to marry us, and I will help you all I can. This I vow.”
“Oh, Thorn.” Her voice broke as emotion nearly overcame her. He was so earnest. He offered her a way out of the nightmare her brother intended for her future.
Thorn came around the corner of the small table and drew her into his arms, seating her on his lap as he took her chair. He held her close, her head tucked under his chin as he rocked her. Emotion threatened to overwhelm her for a long moment, but she held it together. When she looked up at him, moving back slightly, time stretched as their eyes met and held.
She didn’t know who moved first, but the kiss they shared was one of welcome, of hope and of deep, abiding passion. She loved the way his lips claimed hers, gently but with an authority she could not deny. He owned her in that moment of timeless beauty, claimed her and enthralled her. All with a single world-altering kiss.
“Damn.” Tristan’s amused voice drew her out of the fog of pleasure Thorn had created around them. “I’ve never been sorrier to lose a coin toss.”
Cara was shocked by the heat in Tristan’s gaze as he caught her on the lap of the knight. He seemed more amused and envious than anything else, which surprised her. He’d snapped at men at arms who dared glance at her with more than bland interest. And after last night’s strange confrontation, she hadn’t quite expected Tristan to be so accepting of finding her kissing Thorn.
Thorn seemed to become aware of their location and he stood, gently placing her back on her own chair.
“My apologies, Princess. I didn’t mean to kiss you in such a public place. Forgive me.”
Cara looked around and noticed the attention they were drawing from the few servants in the kitchen. Luckily, all were long-serving women she counted as friends. They would not speak of this where her brother might hear.
“It’s all right. These women can be trusted with my secrets. I’ve known most of them since I was old enough to toddle into the kitchen to beg for treats.” She smiled at the memory and noted that the cook was smiling back, delight on her old, lined face.
“Regardless…” Thorn offered her his hand, helping her to rise from her chair. “I would not have you be the subject of gossip. Let us adjourn this conversation to somewhere more private.”
“Conversation,” Tristan mused as they walked out the kitchen door, Thorn and Cara in front, Tristan bringing up the rear. “Is that what they call it in this land? I surely need to study your language more.”
All three of them laughed as they entered the main hall. Thorn only slowed when they reached the giant door that led to the entryway.
“Where to?” Thorn asked.
She tried to think of a place all three of them could be seen entering without causing tongues to wag. She couldn’t take them to her room. Someone would surely see and it might get back to her brother.
“Follow me,” Tristan said, taking the lead out the door and into the courtyard, surprising her.
He led them to the armory, a locked room that held all the weapons. Nobody who saw her enter there would be surprised. She often worked on broken lacings and made minor repairs to things like chainmail and leatherwork. Everyone in the keep knew of her interest in the fighting arts.
Tristan closed and barred the door behind them after they’d entered, then turned to regard her with a penetrating stare. Thorn had left her stan
ding by the long bench that ran the length of the room, then turned to light the lamps. There was no window in the armory and no other entrance. It was a secure room with walls lined with armor and weapons of every kind.
“Now, Lady Cara,” Tristan began, stalking toward her on silent feet, holding her gaze all the while. “We have much to discuss. Your brother, as you no doubt know, has plans to marry you off as soon as possible to the very disagreeable Lord Vron of Hester.”
“Lord Vron?” she asked with dismay. The man was old enough to be her father.
“He confirmed it to me just now. The discussions are already open and your brother is inclined to agree. But I have other plans,” he said, surprising her yet again. “Has the knight told you of your options?”
“Thorn said I would be welcome in the Lair, either on my own merit or as…your wife,” she said, uncertainty creeping into her voice. She hadn’t had time to think about any of this. Her head was telling her to be cautious while her body was counseling her to throw caution to the wind and jump them both before they changed their minds.
Tristan halted before her, his golden eyes glowing with arousal. “If you think you can live your days as part of a triad, I will agree to be a knight. If you wish to remain single, I will follow wherever you go as your champion.” He slid one arm around her waist and drew close, his gaze holding hers. “I will never leave you unprotected, Cara. Even if we are not together as lovers. But I tell you this now…if you agree to be with us, I will never let you go. I did it once. Never again. I have not the strength.”
His forehead rested against hers as he held her close. Then she felt Thorn come up behind her, enveloping her in heat from behind as well as in front. It was the reverse of the night before and it felt every bit as exhilarating and dangerous as the night before. She was beginning to really like this kind of danger.
“Has he made love to you before, Princess?” Thorn whispered, making her shiver as his tongue licked around the outer shell of her ear.
“Yes,” she moaned as Thorn’s hands cupped her breasts, playing with her nipples through her clothing. She didn’t know if she was answering his question or begging him for more. Probably both.
